


From Darkness, Light

by MirandaRoseOfSkywall (lostinmymindforever)



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Evil Guards, Hurt!Khadgar, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmymindforever/pseuds/MirandaRoseOfSkywall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t remember the last time he felt warm, the last time the hunger inside of him hadn’t clawed at his body, making him shudder in pain. He can’t remember the last time anyone had glanced in his direction with anything other than pity, or even worse disgust and contempt. He tries to keep warm, tries not to let his cries of misery be heard, tries to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Darkness, Light

**Author's Note:**

> No Fel/Sargeras in this universe (so Medivh is Medivh and not a bad guy)  
> Angst  
> Hurt!Khadgar (and I do mean hurt, not shown, but referenced many times)  
> Um, sneaky Prince Varian

He can’t remember the last time he felt warm, the last time the hunger inside of him hadn’t clawed at his body, making him shudder in pain. He can’t remember the last time anyone had glanced in his direction with anything other than pity, or even worse disgust and contempt. He tries to keep warm, tries not to let his cries of misery be heard, tries to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

There are so many people passing by, people going about their lives, people with more important things to worry about than a runaway mage. The sound of shopkeepers calling out, the laughter of children, the sound of hooves over the cobbled streets, the sounds of soldiers patrolling the city, all of them drown out Khadgar’s pathetic little whimpers. He curls tighter into himself, biting his lip to stop a noise of pain from passing his lips as the movement jars his already injured body.

How long had it been since he came here, came to Stormwind, thinking that maybe in this place he could have a fresh start? He was nothing, he knew that now. The mages of the Kirin Tor would never accept him back, even if he had crawled back to Dalaran, begging for readmittance into their numbers. And he had no real skills, no skills that would give him a purpose among the ordinary people. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will himself to sleep, trying to vanish.

He hears footsteps at the end of the alley he is hiding in, and silently tries to will them to turn around, to leave, to ignore him, but the footsteps come closer, the heavy sounding footfalls of a member of Stormwind’s military. The young man who stops before him gives him a questioning look before holding a hand out to Khadgar. Khadgar shakes his head no, but even that action is painful and he whimpers in pain. White hot agony races through his body, and then blissful nothingness swallows him.

-

He wakes in a bed, more realistically a cot, but to Khadgar it feels heavenly. He can’t remember the last time he slept on anything other than the cold, hard ground. The young man he had seen was near his bed, along with an older man who was in a heated, if hushed conversation with the young soldier. They both seemed to notice he was awake, turning their attention to him, and Khadgar once more tries, unsuccessfully, to vanish into nothingness.

“What’s your name?” the older one asks, and Khadgar inwardly shudders at the sound of the man’s voice, the way it seems like molten honey, sweet, yet with a painful edge.

“Khadgar,” he replies, his voice barely a whisper, so long had it been since he’d used it. He tries to sit up, knowing he can’t hide, but pain lances through him and he lets out a choked off cry of agony.

The younger soldier helps him sit up, grabbing another pillow to put behind Khadgar’s aching body. Khadgar gives a thankful, if shocked look at the young man, letting his eyes fall closed once more. Everything hurts, but then again that is nothing new for Khadgar. He is no healer and the wounds he has acquired in the last year or so have wrecked him.

“Tell us, Khadgar, what were you doing in that alleyway?” once more the older man speaks, and Khadgar opens his eyes to look at him, noticing that he is closer to the bed now. At this distance Khadgar can see the obvious familial resemblance between the two soldiers, father and son perhaps.

“Staying out of the way,” Khadgar’s words are said with a raspy voice, frankly and to the point. When he’d first arrived in Stormwind he’d mingled in with the crowds, but his naivety and innocent face had almost immediately put a target on his back, and within days of arriving in the city Khadgar found himself beaten and robbed, the few worldly possessions he had taken from him. He’d tried to get help, but the guards had just assumed he was one of the multitude of homeless vagrants that lived in the city and all his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. So Khadgar learned early to stay out of the way, living mainly on what food he could conjure, but as his strength faded his ability to even do that simple act seemed to vanish and Khadgar had found himself a hollow shell of what he had been.

Khadgar looked back at the soldiers, realizing with sick dread that he hadn’t just remembered what had happened to him, that he had spilled in out in almost a flood of bitter, broken speech that left him drained.

“Go and get the healers,” the older soldier said, nodding at the younger man who swiftly rushed from the room, the sound of metal boots echoing off the walls. “Would you recognize the faces of the guards who turned you away?”

Khadgar nodded slowly, not knowing why the soldier was asking that. He could see the muscle in the man’s jaw clench angrily, as if what Khadgar had told him had angered him greatly. Khadgar flinched backwards, wrongly assuming that the man’s anger was directed at himself.

“Their job is to defend and protect this kingdom and it’s inhabitants. They have disgraced both themselves and our kingdom for their actions and I will make sure that they pay for that.”

Khadgar gave a wary shake of his head, “I’m not worth them being punished over.”

The soldier gave him a look at that, one that was both angry and sad and held some emotion that Khadgar couldn’t place. “Everyone is worthy of being protected. Everyone is worth being helped. And the fact that those men, my men, dared to sully their calling demands they be punished.”

And Khadgar now understands where the man’s anger is coming from. By betraying their calling not only had they made themselves look bad but they had also made their commander look bad. While he doesn’t feel worthy of the anger being felt for what happened to him, he understands it. He closes his eyes once more, and realizes he must have passed out, because when he opens them again not only are the two soldiers there but also a handful of healers. The feeling of healing magic makes him almost giddy, and feeling hands on his body, hands that are soothing, not hurting him, make him want to weep. It had been far too long since anyone touched him kindly.

One of the healers lets out a startled little gasp, and Khadgar looks to see what has startled her so much. The woman had been working on his arm, his grime and dried blood covered flesh now clean for the first time in ages, and his brand, the mark showing him as a Guardian Initiate obvious to all who know what the mark means.

The elder soldier reaches out his hand, gently taking Khadgar’s arm into his grasp and looks at the mark. He nods once, letting go of Khadgar’s arm before walking to the doorway. Before leaving the room he says, “As soon as he is patched up I want him moved to the castle. Callan, you are to protect him.”

The younger soldier nods, accepting the order, and once more Khadgar wishes that he could just hide, as the attention he is now receiving makes him uncomfortable. The healers ministrations, while gentle before, almost become reverent, and Khadgar wants to blush, wants to run away and hide, wants to disappear from their touch.

The pain Khadgar feels has subsided to a dull ache by the time the healers file out of the room, and the young soldier, Callan, assists Khadgar into a plain, yet extremely soft and comfortable, robe. He leads Khadgar through the city, ignoring the looks that the people they pass give them. Khadgar is thankful that the robe had a hood, which he wears, covering his face from the crowds. They are stopped briefly, and Khadgar feels a jolt of panic when he notices that one of the guards who has stopped them has the same face as one of the men who beat him so badly all those months ago.

Callan hears the sharp intake of breath, making a note of just which guard had caused his charge to tense up in fear. The rest of the walk is without incident. Before long Callan leads Khadgar into the castle, pausing only to accept orders of which room he is to lead Khadgar to. As soon as Khadgar is safe in his new quarters Callan leaves him, standing guard outside the young man’s room, not to prevent Khadgar from leaving, but to prevent anyone unwanted entering.

Khadgar sinks down onto the bed of the room he was given, eyes wide with confusion and still stinging with unshed tears. One of his attackers, one of his abusers, was one of the city guard. He’d almost run when he’d seen the man, but had held his ground, knowing somehow, that the young soldier would not allow anything bad to happen to him. Once more he looked around the room, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d never stayed in a room like this, not one this large, not one this inviting, not one that looked like it belonged to someone so much more important than he was.

Tiredness crept up on Khadgar, and he allowed it’s seductive embrace to pull him under, falling back onto the almost too soft bed, a soft snore passing his lips before he even hit the pillows.

-

Lothar nods at his son, almost about to enter the mage’s room when he’s stopped. Callan quietly informs him of what he had learned, about the guard that had terrified Khadgar so badly on their trip to the castle and Lothar gives him an appreciative clap on the shoulder. He sends Callan to go and get Lothar’s most trusted men and apprehend the man.

As Callan disappears around the corner Lothar shows himself into the mage’s room, watching as the young man sleeps. Without the dirt and grime covering his skin and in clean clothing instead of the rags he’d been found in, Khadgar seems even younger than Lothar had first assumed. Lothar is still angry, a flame of rage flickering deep inside him. The fact that some of his soldiers, his men, had broken their, what Lothar considers sacred, vows has him livid.

Lothar slowly makes his way to the sleeping figure, knowing quite well how dangerous it could be to wake a mage unexpectedly. Softly, trying to keep the anger he feels out of his voice, he says, “Khadgar? Can I talk to you?”

Khadgar blinks his eyes tiredly, turning over to see the elder soldier standing by his bed, near but not too close. It’s obvious that the man has some experience with mages. Khadgar groans, nodding a little as he forces himself up into a sitting position, gratefully accepting the assistance that the older man gives.

“The guard you saw is being taken in to custody. I was hoping that you could show me who the others had been.”

Khadgar nods once more, not quite sure how he can be of help, as he is certain that if he comes face to face with any of them he’d go silent, not wanting to cause trouble.

Lothar holds out a small shiny object to Khadgar, and Khadgar can feel the magic resonating off of the small object. He looks at it’s surface, there is the face of the soldier at his side, a name, Anduin Lothar, scrawled in mystic lettering under the image. Lothar moves his hand over the object and the image changes, another face, another name, and now Khadgar can tell what the spell on this does. A part of him wonders just who had made this device, the magical skill needed must have been staggering.

Lothar sits down next to Khadgar, an empty tome on his lap, setting an inkwell and quill down on the nightstand. He opens the tome, nodding for Khadgar to continue. Every time the young mage pauses, a shiver of fear passing over him Lothar notes the name in question. Sometimes Khadgar speaks, naming off names, and Lothar writes those ones down as well, in a different column. Thankfully the list that makes Khadgar scared is a short one, but the other list makes Lothar’s jaw clench tightly. Far too many of his men have betrayed their duties, far too many of them have allowed things like this to happen.

They will all be punished, Lothar promises silently. He looks back down at his lists, thanking the Light that none of his most trusted officers are among those named. Pointing at the first list he says more than asks, “These men hurt you, didn’t they?”

Khadgar gives a short nod, screwing his eyes shut tightly. While the men hadn’t been in uniform at the time, Khadgar would never forget those faces. The faces of the men who had beat him, kicked him, spit on him, choked him, tossed him into the alleyway as if he was nothing but garbage. One of them, Khadgar thought with a shudder, had whispered into Khadgar’s ear that had it just been the two of them Khadgar would have faced more than just a beating.

“Tell me what they did to you,” Lothar says, his voice still that molten honey, and Khadgar can tell that the anger that is evident in the man’s voice is not directed at him, but at them men who had abused him.

So Khadgar tells him, tells him everything, each attack, every kick, every punch, every slap. He tells him about the cruel laughter, the way they’d spit on him, shoved trash into his mouth. He shudders as he tells Lothar about the one who had promised so much more, so much worse. Khadgar is shaking by the time he finishes speaking, tears streaming down his face.

Lothar’s face is a mask of blind fury. He wants to destroy those men, all of them supposedly trusted soldiers, supposedly trusted keepers of the peace and defenders of Stormwind. He wants them to suffer. “They’ll pay for this, young one,” he promises, his words a solemn vow.

Khadgar doesn’t know how he knows, but he is certain that Lothar’s words are true. He feels the older man wrap an arm around him, holding him against Lothar’s chest, and allows himself to sob until there are no more tears.

Khadgar had cried until he had fallen asleep, and Lothar just held him, wanting to protect this hurt, scared young man. It was a brief time later when there was a knock on the door, a coded knock, so as quietly as possible, as not to wake the sleeping mage, Lothar said, “Enter.”

Callan walked into the room, pausing only briefly at the sight before him before speaking, his voice quiet, “He’s been taken in to custody. Was Khadgar able to name any of the others?”

Lothar nodded, pointing at the tome.

Callan went to retrieve the book, stopping only to say, “Medivh has arrived as requested.”

“Show the lists to both him and the King. The shorter of the two is the one that must be dealt with first.”

“Of course, Sir,” Callan said, not speaking to his father in this moment, but to his Commander. With that he left, and Lothar continued his watch over the sleeping mage.

-

The sun had just gone down when Khadgar woke, still held in Lothar’s arms, the soldier making soft, soothing mutterings, his hand gently rubbing the mage’s back. As vulnerable as Khadgar was, he felt safe in this man’s arms, protected. He felt that as long as Lothar was there that nothing bad could happen to him. His body, though still sore and achy, felt better than it had in a long time, though the pangs of hunger ripped at him, and his stomach growled in hunger.

“Are you awake?” Lothar asked, not stilling his hands.

“Yes.”

“Let’s get you some food, young one,” he stated, letting go of Khadgar, helping him over to the table.

Khadgar’s mouth watered at the sight of food spread out on the table’s surface. It was more food than he had been around in a very long time. He wanted to eat everything, but held back, not wanting to seem greedy or gluttonous. Lothar smiled at him, shaking his head slightly before filling a plate with food, setting it before Khadgar.

“Eat,” he said softly.

And Khadgar ate. His hunger taking over, he ate until his body could stand it no more. He felt full, sated, the combination of food, rest in an actual bed, and the healers ministrations making him feel more like himself. He could feel the subtle surge of magic running through his body, could feel a part of him he had been cut off from for months now come alive. He gasped, closing his eyes as his body was flooded with mystic energy, as if he had been soaked in a font of it.

Lothar watched Khadgar closely, watching the almost orgasmic look on his face as he ate his food. When Khadgar gasped Lothar wondered what had caused the sound, but then he noticed it, even with Khadgar’s eyes closed, Lothar could see the faint bluish arcane light coming from them. He wanted to cry. Not only had the young mage been physically hurt, he’d been cut off from a part of him, something that was as natural to him as breathing. Lothar watched as Khadgar’s head fell back, allowing the sensation of magic finally returning to him run through his body.

It shamed Lothar that the sight had him going hard in his pants. Thankfully he was distracted from those thoughts when there came a knock on the door. Before Lothar could speak, the door opened, two very familiar forms standing in the doorway.

Llane and Medivh entered the room, the King of Stormwind and the Guardian both having looks that spoke volumes to anyone who knew them, and Lothar knew them well.

“We’re rounding up the men who you listed,” Llane said, just as angry as Lothar had been at the betrayal of the men in question.

Medivh walked to Khadgar, looking at the young mage, silent, his gaze appraising and questioning at the same time. Without saying a word he grasped Khadgar’s arm, shoving up the sleeve of the robe, and nodded once at the sight of his mark. He seemed to be searching Khadgar for something, as if he was reading into the young mage’s very soul. Unlike Lothar or Llane, there was no anger in his voice when he spoke, “I do not know your reasons for leaving the Kirin Tor, nor do I need to. From now on you shall be my apprentice.”

Khadgar swallowed hard, staring at the Guardian, not knowing how to answer those words.

Medivh simply nodded, turning to leave the room. As he reached the door he said to Llane, “He is to be treated as I am. Make sure he receives anything he needs.”

Lothar and Llane both nodded, when the Guardian made proclamations and orders it was best to listen to them.

Khadgar half paid attention to Lothar and Llane, the King of Stormwind, as they talked quietly near the doorway. He could tell both men were angry, but every time they would look at him their gazes would soften, and Khadgar knew their anger wasn’t directed at himself. Through the open doorway Khadgar caught a glimpse of Callan, who was standing guard outside his room, the young soldier attentive in his duties. Khadgar’s earlier suspicions, that Callan and Lothar were father and son, or at least were kin, had been proven true when he had looked through the images of Stormwind’s army, as the young soldier had the same last name as Lothar.

“Khadgar, there is some business I must attend to. Callan will be outside your door if you need anything.”

Khadgar nodded distractedly, watching as the man left, a startling feeling of loss filling him as the door closed behind him. There was no understandable reason why Khadgar felt such a suffocating feeling of loneliness overcome him when the man left. With a sad sigh Khadgar went to investigate his room more intently. There were books in the bookcase, ranging in topics from children’s tales to advanced magic and science. He ran his fingers, almost lovingly, over their spines, picking out a book he had read when he was a small child, wanting the comfort that the memories of his time before he’d been taken to the Kirin Tor would bring. He was so lost in his reading that he hadn’t heard the door open, jumping out of his seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was about to call to himself a protective spell when he saw that it was Lothar.

The man’s eyes looked haunted, as if he had seen things that even had upset him. But he was smiling, a pleasant, if slightly grim, smile that made Khadgar’s heart pound in his chest. “They’ve all been captured. The Guardian did a spell that prevented them from telling lies, and they admitted to what they had done, not only to you but to others, so many others.” Lothar closed his eyes, thinking about how much worse Khadgar could have faced. There was something about the young mage that made Lothar want to protect him, but not only that, something more, something deeper that Lothar couldn’t understand.

Khadgar shudders, he can only begin to image what others had gone through at those monsters hands. “What will be done with them?” he asks finally.

Lothar gives him a look that says Khadgar really doesn’t want to know, and says, “They will never be able to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter. As for the ones who refused to help, they are being reassigned to work in the orphanages and hospitals. They are being forced to work, to help, no matter who it is that needs the help.”

Khadgar nodded at that, a fitting and fair punishment in his eyes. “So… what is to happen with me now?”

“For the time being a guard will be either outside your door, or at your side, for as long as you feel it is necessary. The King has ordered, that as you are the Guardian’s apprentice, that you are to be treated with the same respect that he is. Anything you request, within reason of course, will be given to you, be it books, spell reagents, clothing, whatever.”

Khadgar was overwhelmed. He didn’t feel he deserved any of this, he was nothing really. A runaway, one who had turned his back on his order. He didn’t deserve the treatment that was being lavished on him.

Lothar seemed to know exactly what Khadgar was going to say, placing a finger over Khadgar’s lips to silence him, “With your help we’ve removed a blight that was poisoning our numbers for far too long. You deserve to be paid back for that. There were other victims who are no longer among the living due to those fiends, and without them being dealt with more there would have been many others.”

Khadgar shudders at that, knowing realistically that he got off lucky compared to some. He nods, solemnly, closing his eyes as tears of grief, mourning, and relief fall from his eyes.

“Also, I can assure you with great certainty, that Medivh would not have made you his apprentice had he not seen something in you. In all the years I have known the Guardian he has never taken an apprentice. Trust me, it is a great honor.”

Khadgar gave a half-smile at that, knowing that Lothar spoke the truth.

-

The weeks passed, and Khadgar slowly rebuilt his strength. He spent much of his time in the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls that Medivh had instructed him to study. The Guardian had decided that Khadgar was to remain in Stormwind, as his emissary, his representative when he was not in the city. He had delivered many, many books and scrolls for Khadgar to survey.

When Medivh wasn’t in Stormwind, Khadgar found himself being dragged away from the library by Lothar or Callan or even sometimes Queen Taria or King Llane, but mostly it was Lothar making sure he ate or got enough sleep or just got out to relax for a bit.

Khadgar found himself becoming fast friends with Callan, the two young men almost the same age. While they came from different backgrounds the two of them did have many of the same interests. He followed Callan out into the cemetery one late evening, watching as the young soldier went to a particular grave, tracing his fingers over the engraved stone. Khadgar had felt out of place, unknowing of who Callan was visiting, but the soft, “Dad’s doing good, Mom. He’s smiling, really smiling for the first time in… well for the first time I’ve ever seen it,” had Khadgar realizing just who was buried there.

“She died giving birth to me,” Callan said quietly as they walked out of the cemetery, being met by the young Prince Varian as they walked back to the castle.

“I’m sorry,” was all Khadgar could say, as he didn’t know what else there was to say to something like that.

Khadgar watched with a small grin as Varian hugged Callan once before walking briskly, as it was unseemly for the crown prince to be seen running, away towards his quarters. Sometimes Khadgar forgot that the Queen was Lothar’s sister, Callan’s aunt, but then something would remind him and he’d have a brief tinge of embarrassment. Who was he to be so close to the royal family? Who was he to… he stopped those thoughts before they came to fruition.

But at night, when he was alone in his rooms, the thoughts came upon him like a torrent, and he’d close his eyes, ashamed at the longing he felt for Lothar. The man probably saw him as a child, a son, and here Khadgar was wanting him, wanting to feel the man’s hands on his body, wanting to hear Lothar moan his name. It felt like a betrayal, to both Lothar and Callan. His friend would hate him if he knew Khadgar’s secret thoughts, if he knew the way Khadgar hungered for his father.

-

Lothar watched the young mage from the doorway, watched as he absentmindedly bit on the end of the quill in his hand, watched as the young man’s eyes moved over the tomes and scrolls spread out in front of him, devouring the knowledge they contained. He’d been standing there for almost 10 minutes, each time he’d tried getting Khadgar’s attention proving fruitless as the mage was deep in thought. And by the Light, how Lothar wanted Khadgar to study him as he did those tomes. How he wanted the young mage to give him his complete and utter attention. But Lothar knew that would never be.

Lothar was certain that Khadgar and his son were involved, the two young men spending so much time together, sharing secrets and stories and just enjoying being together. And still, Lothar wanted. He wished he could have that with the young mage, wished that Khadgar would see him as something other than just Callan’s father and the Commander of Stormwind’s army. Lothar couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone this much, not even Callan’s mother who he had loved desperately. Since Khadgar was lost in his studies Lothar let himself watch the young man, let the mask he threw on whenever Khadgar was looking at him slip away.

Unbeknownst to either Lothar or Khadgar there was someone else in the library, someone who had seen the looks the two gave each other when the other wasn’t looking, someone who wanted to knock them both upside the head and tell them to just talk, just tell each other the truth. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He was a child, and even though he was the crown prince he had no place in telling adults how to live their lives. But there was something he could do, and with a grin on his face and a half formed plan, Prince Varian Wrynn snuck out of the library and went in search of his cousin.

“They’re doing it again,” Varian said as soon as he had located Callan.

“Doing what, Varian? And who is doing it?”

Varian rolled his eyes, “Uncle Anduin and Mage Khadgar. And you know what.” Varian crossed his arms over his chest.

Callan nodded, laughing a little. He’d noticed it too, he was sure that everyone except his father and Khadgar themselves knew how each other felt. “I’ll talk to them, okay?”

-

“Dad, we need to talk,” Callan said later that day.

Lothar nodded, motioning his son to sit down.

“It’s about Khadgar,” Callan said.

As Lothar could see that his son wasn’t upset he realized what this was about. ‘He’s going to let me know that he and Khadgar are involved romanticly,’ Lothar thought. ‘I’ll just lie and pretend I’m fine with it, support him.’

“I know, Callan. And I’m happy for the two of you, I really am.”

Callan burst out into laughter at his father’s words, laughing until he was gasping for breath. “Dad, I am not involved with Khadgar. He’s my best friend, nothing more. He’s in love with _you,_ ” he made sure to emphasize the final word, staring at his father with an amused grin. “Why would you ever think that Khadgar and I were? On second thought, I don’t want to know why.”

“You two are always together. I just assumed...”

“Dad, even if Khadgar was interested in me, which he’s not because head over heels for you, we wouldn’t be dating anyway. He is not my type.”

“Oh? Oh, I...”

Callan laughed again, finding the whole thing remarkably humorous. “I swear you are the only person in Stormwind who didn’t know that Khadgar is in love with you. He’s just as bad. By the Light, he thinks you see him as a son or something. You two really need to work on the whole talking to each other thing.”

Lothar sighed, feeling a bit put out at being basically called an idiot by his son, but at the same time the fact that Khadgar was in love with him, him, a worn out soldier who was twice his age, had him feeling a sense of pride and even a little hope.

“Dad, he won’t say anything. He’s too scared to drive you away. If you want him, if you want to be with him, you have to be the one to make the first move. I love you, and I love him as a close, dear friend, and I want both of you to be happy.”

Lothar nodded at his son’s words, deciding that enough was enough. He had a mage to go woo.

-

Khadgar is in his room getting ready for bed when there is a knock on his door. Since the only person who ever comes here this late at night is Callan he goes to open it, not bothering to put a shirt back on. It isn’t Callan, instead it is Lothar. Khadgar swallows hard, motioning for the man to enter, moving swiftly to grab his robe to cover himself.

“You don’t need to do that,” Lothar says, appreciating the view. He saw Khadgar stop at those words, and walked towards the younger man, resting his hand on Khadgar’s shoulder.

Khadgar turned to face Lothar, feeling naked under the man’s gaze. If he didn’t feel the way he felt about Lothar then he wouldn’t be so embarrassed at answering the door wearing nothing but his pants, but the fact remained that he had fallen, and fallen hard, for the older man.

“I think that you and I need to talk,” Lothar said, keeping his voice neutral, not wanting to scare off his mage, and since when had he started thinking of Khadgar as his mage.

Khadgar closed his eyes, his mind automatically going to the wrong place at those words, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t feel how I do, but I can’t help it.”

“Oh, Khadgar, what am I going to do with you,” Lothar said softly, cupping Khadgar’s face in his palm. “Look at me, please, Khadgar, look at me.” When Khadgar opened his eyes Lothar smiled, “I love you, Khadgar. I am in love with you.”

Khadgar looked into Lothar’s eyes, seeing nothing but truth in them. Emotions warred in his mind, he kept trying to talk but the words died on his tongue before he could say them. Thankfully Lothar stepped in, leaning closer to him, and kissed him. Khadgar felt his heart pounding in his chest, and began to tremble for emotion. He returned Lothar’s kiss, reaching up to run his fingers through the man’s long hair which Khadgar had fantasized about far too many times doing.

By the time the kiss ended both were breathless, resting their foreheads together, not wanting to lose the closeness they felt. Khadgar’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew that Lothar’s was beating just as fast. This felt right, a soothing balm that was cleansing away all the pain and loneliness he had felt. He clung to Lothar, letting the man be his rock, his anchor. There had been so much darkness, but Lothar was his Light.


End file.
